


Bespoke

by lyricalsoul



Series: Mycroft's In Love [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-06
Updated: 2012-03-06
Packaged: 2017-11-01 13:45:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricalsoul/pseuds/lyricalsoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft and Lestrade have a conversation while Mycroft is getting measured. Things escalate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bespoke

**Author's Note:**

> I have a "man in a suit" thing. This is the result of going to the tailor with my own British boo.

“Hello?”

“Bad time?”

“Never when you call.”

“That French bloke seemed to think so last week.”

“Well, he most certainly thinks better of it now.”

“You… tell me you didn’t.”

“I may have confused Napa and Death Valley.”

“You don’t get confused.”

“Well, we all have our bad days.”

“Mycroft.”

“He’s only on temporary assignment. And he has an office, though I’m told the air conditioning unit is temperamental.”

“Very cruel.”

“Rudeness and condescension are the enemies of civility. He’ll learn.”

“In the heat of Death Valley? Most likely, yes.”

“Fortunately, being your valentine has made me…nice. Had this happened a month ago, it wouldn’t be temporary.”

“Good to know I’m a calming influence. Are you at the office?”

“No, Savile Row.”

“Fancy pants.”

“So to speak.”

“I can’t hear you. Why are you talking so low?”

“I am indoors now, and have no desire to scandalize my tailor. It’s called discretion. You should use some.”

“I like your voice low and sexy like that. Goes straight to my co-“

“Gregory, aren’t you at work? Let’s please be discreet.”

“I’m not in my glass office, so calm down. I wish I could be there.”

“As do I, since I think you would look utterly ravishing in a nice navy chalkstripe, white shirt, double striped tie in yellow and navy…mmm…would you like me to get an appointment for you?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, but I happen to like my clothes. They’re low maintenance since I never know when I might have to go chasing through the woods, or end up in the Thames.”

“Just how many times have you ended up there?”

“Depends on who’s telling the story. I say twice, some say I fall in daily.”

“I’ll have to be more careful kissing you then. Don’t want to end up with some exotic flu.”

“A flu wouldn’t dare.”

 “So…you were wishing you could be here? If not to get fitted, why?”

“Oh, Mycroft. I want to watch the process. I want to watch you. In your natural habitat.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“There’s a certain…ah, air that goes with getting a bespoke suit. Impeccable manners, the whiff of money, and good looking chaps with their hats and tie pins and cufflinks. And then there’s all that chalk, those pins, and posh material. You’re getting measured, right?”

“Another fetish of yours?”

“The tape measure.”

“To date, you have confessed to having a fascination with highly polished shoes, woolen socks, flapjacks, and now tape measures. Very interesting. And yes, I need to provide new measurements, since, as you so tactfully pointed out, my suits are ‘hanging on me like draperies’.”

“That grey worsted…thing… you had on the other day is done.”

“I wore it for effect. It did the job for which it was intended. Crisis averted.”

“From wearing a sad suit? Well, I hope you burned it afterward. I really don’t know why Sherlock is always on about your diet. You look fine to me…in and out of clothes.”

“You are incredibly biased.”

“Of course I am. You’re a fantastic boost for my ego. An old copper like me, landing a sexy chap like yourself? Feather in my cap.”

“You’re hardly old. And the feather is most definitely in my cap. Also, I can drop your name, should I find myself afoul of the law.”

“Oh, please. You could snatch a purse; no one would blink.”

“I’m told that I am the type one should be on the lookout for.”

“Now that I’ve gotten to know you better, you’re probably right.”

“I usually am.”

“You are. So, tell me something, Mycroft…”

“When you use that tone, I know you are up to no good.”

“Not always.”

“I have statistical data.”

“Cheater.”

“Well armed.”

“You say. What are you wearing?”

“No. Do not do start this, Gregory. Henry is about to measure me, and I am certain he will not take kindly to me being in a heightened state of arousal as he goes about his job. Plus, he gossips like no one’s business.”

“Your expensive tailor is probably the soul of discretion, and wouldn’t blink if you got a stiff one. Good looking bloke?”

“He’s at least seventy-five, and most likely would balk at being referred to as a bloke. He has been my tailor since I was sixteen.”

“Seen it all, then?”

“Not in the way your tone suggests. And I do not get ‘a stiff one’ at the tailor. It is uncouth. Stop this _. I am well, thank you, Henry. I hope you don’t mind that I conduct business while you work?”_

“‘Conduct business’, eh? I think if this wasn’t something you wanted, you’d hang up. But you won’t, because you enjoy this as much as I do. And I accept your challenge.”

“Challenge? Don’t you dare try to make me… _Sherlock is his usual self. I will tell him you asked, though he will once again refuse your offer of a fitting. Shame really. He could use a decent suit_.”

“So very charming...such a turn on.”

“As if it takes much. I mean it, Gregory. Do not do this to me. Or you will pay.”

“What? You’ll send me to Siberia? This is your fault, really. How can just hearing you say my name put me on the edge? You have no idea what you do to me, Mycroft. Let me know when he starts.”

“I…pardon?”

“He’s going to measure you.”

“As has been previously stated.”

“I like the visual. You, standing there, tall and handsome, while someone slides a tape measure along those long legs and arms. Arousing.”

“Certainly not. Someone once told me I reminded them of a baby giraffe.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Well, she was my aunt, and I was twelve at the time, so draw your own conclusions.”

“Caterpillar to butterfly. I want to see the pictures one day.”

“No. You would feel compelled to lie to me about them.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I could tell you thirteen reasons why you would, but let’s not quibble.”

“I know sexy when I see it. Your mild-mannered government man disguise got to me first. I could buy that you’re just a government worker, but then, there’s a look, a tilt of the head that hints at something more simmering below the surface, but you have to look closely to see it.  All wrapped up in your bespoke suit, but once the waistcoat comes off, you’re as hot as a furnace. Really gets me going.”

“Ah. _No, you did not stick me with the pin. Apologies for moving_.”

“Distracted?”

“Yes. While I am rather adept at multi-tasking, I will admit this is challenging.”

“I’ll wager you never had to multi-task while one bloke was talking dirty to you and another bloke was feeling you up.”

“True to the first part. I assure you that the second part is not the case.”

“Ha! He’s been measuring that sexy body of yours for years. Think he didn’t sneak in a few covert touches?”

“Utter madness to even think so. He is a consummate professional.”

“Well, I can dream, can’t I?”

“I’m unclear as to what you are suggesting. You want…another party to be involved?”

“You sound like I just asked you for nuclear codes. To be clear, if I were your tailor, I’d be sneaking all sorts of touches.”

”You would be run out of business for harassment. If you wouldn’t mind holding for a moment…?”

“Tape measure time?”

“Yes.”

“Can you take a picture?”

“…”

 _“Thank you, Henry. The same colors will be fine. Though if you could take away the grey worsted, and add the tweed mid-brown herringbone with the blue check, I would be most grateful. Standard order on the shirts, and as per our custom, I will leave the ties and squares in your hands._ Gregory. What were you humming?”

”What? I didn’t hear anything after you said ‘herringbone’. God, that’s so damned sexy….”

“I am not rising to the bait literally, or figuratively. What were you humming?”

“Theme to Goldfinger.”

“Ah. Shall we add James Bond to the list? You seem obsessed.”

“Depends on the Bond. You’d make a good Bond villain. Hmm…Bespoke, the suave ex-tailor who has killed two double-o agents with a tape measure and pinking shears…is building a nuclear reactor in his lair-slash-suit-factory under Savile Row. No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to sew.”

“Terrible accent. And most assuredly, I would be the hero in this tale.”

 “No, you’re ex-secret service, and embittered because they railroaded you, killed your-

“Can we just go back to your fascination with measuring?”

“If you insist. Poor Henry probably had to measure three times before he got it right.”

“I will not ask how you knew that.”

“I am a detective inspector, and I know people. He’s confused.”

“Unlikely.”

“Very likely.”

“Again, professional.”

“You say. Waist yet?”

“Yes.”

“My favorite part. Your waist, that is. Do you think you could manage to filch his tape measure?”

“Why would I do such a thing? _Quite all right, Henry. Yes, I have lost a few stone since last you saw me_.”

“See? Confused.”

“In what way?”

“Your tailor has never seen you like this before – whispering into the phone isn’t new, but there’s probably something in your tone, in your body language that he’s reacting to. Inseam yet?”

“Perhaps a call back would be in order…?”

“Oh, no. I’m enjoying this.”

“It is very disconcerting that you are. It’s such a simple thing. I do not understand your… fascination, so to speak.”

“Because you have no idea how sexy you are, Mycroft. Freshly shaven and manicured, smelling like heaven, just standing there, posture perfect, running the world on your mobile. Plus, you look quite sexy in your waistcoat. Shows off your assets, so to speak. Nice assets, too. If I recall correctly, there are freckles just below your-“

“Every action has a reaction. The consequence of your action would be disastrous for me were you to continue.”

“Is that your way of saying you’re heating up?”

“Yes.”

“On a scale of one to ten, just how heated are you?”

“Perhaps a high eight.”

“Fair burning, then. But not…visibly?”

“Thankfully, no.”

“Mmm… must be sweating with the effort to not show it.”

“Metaphorically.”

“Henry should be working on the lower torso by now.”

“Yes. Our conversation is nearing its end.”

“Hardly. This is the good part.”

“For some.”

“Careful…don’t want to scandalize Henry.”

“Then cease talking.”

“You knew there were risks when you gave me the job.”

“Yes. I do believe there are aspects of your C.V. that were not disclosed.”

“Calls for disciplinary action, I think.”

“Ahem.”

“Make sure that your inseam has a few spare inches added to it. Room to grow, so to speak. Now that you have a valentine, you’ll need it for all your ‘high eights’ that spring up out of nowhere.”

“…”

“Score one for me. That got you going. Hard yet?”

 _“_ No. _Yes, Henry… it is unseasonably warm today, and could be the reason I am flushed. A glass of water will be fine_.”

“I’d love to see you right now, hot and bothered, being measured. Almost there?”

“Where?”

“Done. Focus.”

“Building a barn for escaped horses is an exercise in futility.”

“Wow…that bad?”

“Yes. I fear that this call is interfering with Henry’s ability to get the inseam correct. Might we talk later? _No, that was not aimed at you, Henry. You are an excellent tailor. I can think of no one else to whom I would entrust my wardrobe. I apologize for being distracted. Yes, I’ll just have a seat and finish up this call_. _Thank you_. Gregory… you must stop. I only have so much control.”

“This from the man who sent me texts detailing his bath. Knowing that I was in a meeting with the Superintendent. Sauce for the goose, Mycroft.”

“I apologized. Most of the evening, and well into morning.”

“Wouldn’t have been so bad, but he thought I was blushing because I fancied him, asked me to dinner.”

“It all worked out in the end. And you got a day off out the misunderstanding.”

“True. I’ll stop, but only on one condition.”

“I refuse to go into the closet, the dressing room, or any office and ‘have a wank’ as you are likely going to suggest.”

“Was that a growl?”

“Certainly not.”

“In denial. Mmm, the things you do to me…! I have to get back to work. You sure you won’t just step into the fitting room and have a quick one? We can do it together. I’m so hot… I can just feel your hands all over me, those long fingers sliding and probing… oh, fuck…”

“Gregory… I cannot… You are vexing me. _Thank you for the water, Maurice. No, Sherlock has not gotten himself in trouble again. Yes, he is a scamp. Thank you for your concern_.  Now that they all think I’m suffering from some type of madness, will you consider that you’ve accomplished your mission?”

“Not…yet…”

“Are you…? Please tell me that you aren’t…”

“Oh, I am… imagining it’s your hand on me… feels so good, you’ve no idea how hot you make me…”

“Christ.”

“Lips. Hands. Tongue. All over me. In your fucking bespoke suit. Herringbone. Oh, shit… I’m going to come. Just for you.”

“Gregory…”

“Say my name like that again.”

“Gregory… just… do it. Please.”

“Yes… yes…OH GOD… shit. Mmph… that was absolutely delicious. Thank you, Mycroft.”

“Damn you. How am I supposed to recover from that? There’s no way I can stand up now.”

“Mmm… Want me to come give you a quick blow? You know I can make you come in about two minutes…”

“I do not. Henry is smirking at me. I can’t imagine what he’s thinking.”

“Send him to Siberia. That’ll teach him.”

“Abuse of power. I’m hanging up now, while a few shreds of my dignity remain.”

“I owe you one.”

“Two. And I shall collect tonight. In full. Hard.”

“Oh, god, yes. I’ll be in your bed by seven.”

“Did I mention hard?”

“Five, then. Going now. Conference in ten, and I’ve got to find some new pants. Or clean these up. You have no idea what you do to me, Mycroft….”

“I expect you to describe those things in detail. I must go now. Talk later.”

“Don’t forget the tape measure.”

***

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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